Conundrum
by Concolor44
Summary: This is a 'what-if' one-shot based on a rather extreme extrapolation of events near the end of the movie. VioletXMirage. Rated 'T' because I'm a cautious sort, but probably closer to K .


Conundrum

By Concolor44

_[ DISCLAIMER: I do not own The Incredibles. That notable honor goes to Brad Bird and the marvelous creative team at Pixar. This story is a work of fiction, is UTTERLY non-canonical, and has nothing whatsoever to do with any plans or works of Disney/Pixar or any of its assigns, all of whom disavow any knowledge of or connection with the tale that follows... ]_

_** 5:00pm **_

The subdued _beep_ of the alarm system announced Violet's entrance to her apartment. Stowing her passcard in a pocket, she leaned against the wall as she called out, "Hi, Honey, I'm home."

"Back here!" came the dulcet reply in that subtle accent she loved so much. A moment later, a willowy platinum blond tripped into the front room, bounced over to her lover and gave her a hug and a smooch. Noting Violet's obvious fatigue, Mirage held her out at arm's length and said, "You look beat. How's the new foot?"

"Not bad." Violet stuck her right leg out and gave it a side-to-side shake. "The tactile feedback sucks, but the balance sensors work fairly well. I don't even limp much; not at all if I go slow."

"Not like a real foot, though."

"Well, no." She gave the older woman a smirk. "Sometimes I think _you_ miss it more than I do." She walked carefully over to their couch and leaned against the arm.

"That's because I really like giving you foot massages."

"And I've still got one left."

"But that makes it uneven."

"Said the victim of OCD."

"It's not a 'disorder' if it doesn't negatively impact one's life."

"I stand corrected." She glanced down at her bionic foot with a lopsided grin. "Even if I do stand a bit crooked." A wry chuckle slipped out. "Always thought my first 'spare parts' would be teeth."

"Twenty-eight would be kinda young for dentures, don't you think?"

"Kinda young for a prosthetic foot, too. Still, I shouldn't complain," she stated, with a tiny sigh. "It beats hell out of a peg-leg."

"Oh, I don't know. You could have it turned out of some rare wood, and accessorize with a parrot and an eye-patch and …" She neatly ducked the pillow that Violet had yanked off the sofa and chucked at her head. "Sweetie, aren't you taking the term 'throw pillow' a little too seriously?"

"Aaiiigh! Please, no puns! My day sucked bad enough already."

"Oh? What happened?"

Violet plopped down into a wingback chair and asked, "You want the whole Mass-a-cree in Four-Part Harmony?"

"Sure." She shrugged and sat on the edge of the couch. "I'm all ears."

"To start with, Nick dumped a whole pile of reports on me as soon as I got into my office."

"Reports? Incident reports?"

"Yep. And you know how badly most supers write. It's like they think paperwork is the enemy or something. All they want to do is bust heads and catch bad guys and bask in the limelight. Filling out reports falls under 'none of the above' and don't they just _bitch_ about it!"

"Ah. So you had to put on your 'Editor' cap."

"You got it." She blew a long sigh of frustration. "Why is it, do you suppose, that most supers stink at grammar? Half of them can't write a cogent sentence, much less a clear paragraph. I have to guess and fudge and read between the lines, and more often than not I get to call them and get them to explain some things, hopefully in English instead of the Early Hybrid Croatian that seems to be all the rage in report-writing these days." Shaking her head, she continued, "One of the things I miss about being a field agent is that I didn't have anyone under me. I didn't have to wipe noses or pat heads or lead anyone around by the hand. All I had to do was complete the mission and take out the bad guy. But there's no ready defense against poorly-done paperwork."

"Oh, baby!" She leaned over and kissed Violet's cheek. "I'm sorry. I used to have to do something like that now and then, and I know how maddening it can be."

"Yeah. Anyway, the kicker came in right after lunch."

"Came in?"

"Yep. It went this way …"

_** Four hours earlier **_

The longer she listened to the gaunt young man who had found his way into her office, the more distressed Violet Parr became.

He was waving his finger in the air while making his point. "… and so technically he's a villain, right? I know he doesn't have the whole take-over-the-world mentality going, but Wrath has killed close to two dozen people so far, and even though they were known criminals …"

"Yeah," she interrupted. "Uh-huh. David, stop. You aren't even an A-List Super. You can make water do some interesting things …"

"A hell of a _**lot**_ of things! Like near-total control."

"Right. You're a Water Weird, and a good one. But if you can't …

"Water Weird?"

"Huh?"

"Water Weird! That's a totally cool name."

"It's not a name, it's a … oh, wait. Do you know what a Water Weird is?"

"It's a kick-ass name for a super, is what it is!"

"Ooookay. You like that better than AquaLord?"

"Oh, hells, yeah! Sign me up."

"… Fine. I'll make a note of it and add it to your file." She dashed off a few lines on a sticky-note and attached it to her monitor. "Now where were we?"

"We were talking about me going after Wrath."

"Ah … no. Not to put too fine a point on it, but that's crazy talk."

"Why?"

"Limitations, David. If you can't get at some water, you're pretty much stuck. Am I correct?"

"Yeah? So what's your point?" David Graham was nothing if not confident in his abilities, and he had a pretty good track record to back up that attitude. "I'll wait to get him until he's close to a lake or a river or something. Water is everywhere!"

"That won't be much help. He can kill you if he can see you. Usually he doesn't really even _need_ to see you."

"I'll be part of the water. He won't know I'm there until it's too late."

"David." She placed a cautionary hand on his shoulder, and though it got a pointed look, he didn't shrug it off. "Please listen to reason. You are contemplating an attack on a teleporting shape-shifter with laser vision. This is a super who has such a high degree of tactile telekinesis that there is no practical upper limit to his strength. He can toss buildings around; he'd make Mr. Incredible look like an asthmatic kitten, if he were still alive. He's essentially invulnerable. We don't even have a _category_ for how powerful he is. And currently he's pissed off at the world." Then, under her breath, she added, "And he isn't wrapped too tight, either. Hasn't been since the attack."

"He still has to breathe! And he can't do that if he's completely enveloped in water."

"You're not getting it. He doesn't stay where he doesn't want to be. He'll just teleport. Or he'll phase out of the way. Or, since he'll be in contact with it, he might just take the water away from _you_ and use it _against_ you."

"But …"

"No! No 'buts' where Wrath is concerned. Please believe me, if he considers you a threat you _**will**_ die." She paused for emphasis. "And to rebut your claim, I am not _at __all_ sure he has to breathe. He can alter the atoms in his body, for God's sake! Does iron breathe? Does ice or rock or rubber? He has been all those things. I've seen it myself."

"… Rock?"

She nodded. "Rock. Or anything else he wants."

"So … we just give up? Is that what you're telling me?"

"Not at all. We do, however, avoid confrontations. They tend to get … messy."

"Messy."

"Yes."

"Like what?"

"Like what happened in Little Rock."

"Little Rock? You mean that thing two weeks ago, with The Torch? Wrath did that?"

"Yes. That's exactly what I mean. The Torch was sort of your opposite number, but he had similar ideas. And you see where that got him."

"Oh." David did see; had _seen_, since photos of the late super's remains were all over the internet.

His crestfallen look pulled a measure of pity out of Violet. "You understand our position, don't you? You're a valuable super. There are lots of missions where you'd be perfect. But this isn't one of them."

"And you're saying there's _nothing_ I can do?"

"Against him directly, no. That's why we published that policy paper last week."

"Huh. I thought that was just the squawkings of somebody in the NSA hierarchy who desperately needed to grow a pair."

"No. We took that step because we'd lost three supers in one week to the 'direct approach' and wanted to stop the hemorrhaging."

"… Oh."

"Now, if you would like to do yourself and me a large favor, there _is_ something you can do that will be helpful."

"Really? Against Wrath?"

"Yep."

"I'm game."

"Good." Violet riffled through a stack of folders and pulled one out, handing it to the young man. "We need you to find this guy."

David flipped it open, skimming through the scant information on the few sheets of paper it contained. He glanced back up at Violet. "So … Julian deMarco? Just who is he?"

"Semi-big-time crook. Fairly diversified. Runs numbers out of a warehouse in Springfield, but has also dabbled in prostitution, money laundering, running a little crack now and then … and weapons trafficking."

That got his attention. "Are you saying this guy is on the short list?"

"Probably. Wrath doesn't _publish_ his short list, so these are just our best-guesses." She laid a slim hand on the stack of folders. "But we've been right better than half the time. Some of the guns – missile launchers, to be specific – that this guy sold a couple years ago were used in the All Saints Day Massacre."

"Uhff. Yeah, that would do it." He took a quick glance her way, trying to gauge her reaction to the topic, but Violet played a good game of poker and tended to carry that face with her to the office. "So you want me to find him? Bring him in?"

"Yes. And do it as quickly and discreetly as possible. Don't attract attention."

"Check. Don't attract the wrong _sort_ of attention."

"Correct. That could be counterproductive."

He chuckled. "Counterproductive? Do you always use hyperbole like thataway?"

"Only when I'm really, really nervous."

"Oh. Huh." He stuck the folder under one arm. "Guess I'll be going, then."

_* * now * *_

"And that's how I got rid of him."

"He sounds like a nice-enough kid, though."

"Oh, sure, yeah. 'Nice.' _That'll_ keep you alive in the field."

"Little early in the evening for sarcasm, isn't it?"

"Never too early, Dear Heart."

"… Sooooo …"

"So?"

"Water Weird is going to try to track down this deMarco character."

"That's the idea."

"And … will Wrath consider that … interfering?"

"Not if we're _understated_ about it."

"Ah-huh. Sneaky, you mean."

"Eh. That's one possible interpretation. I prefer to think of it as discreet."

"Has he … contacted you any more?"

Violet's eyes betrayed her troubled mind. "No. Just the once. Believe me, once was enough."

"Do you think he can tell when we're talking about him? Or planning something against him?

"I have no idea. He's got a connection with me, that's for sure. It's some kind of telepathy, but nobody at Headquarters could classify it."

"That seems to be a constant thread whenever he comes up. Not classifiable."

Violet grunted in assent and then said, "Change of subject. Whatcha want to do about supper? You said you'd been busy painting, right?"

"Yes. Sorry about that. I was really getting into it and time just slipped away."

"No biggie. I like your paintings." She chuckled. "A _lot_ of people like your paintings. I should just chuck my job with the NSA and become your kept woman."

Mirage's delicate fingers traced the line of Violet's jaw. "But then I'd _never_ get any work done, would I?"

Violet captured those fingers and kissed them, looking up at Mirage through her long, black hair. "You still find me … attractive?"

"Violet!"

"Even with this contraption on the end of my leg?"

"I'm not in love with your _foot_, Dearest."

"I'm just afraid I'll be a burden or …"

"Hush! That's silly. You? A burden? As if." She pulled Violet out of the chair and onto her lap, holding her close, black hair and white mingling in a chiaroscuro of intimacy as Mirage kissed away the younger woman's doubts. A few breathless minutes later, she pulled back and said, "Chinese."

Violet, momentarily bewildered, responded, "Chinese what?"

"Takeout. Call the Jade Pearl. They deliver."

"Oh! Supper. Okay. So, you don't want to go out?"

"No. We should stay in." One languid finger traced a slow pattern on Violet's exposed neck, leaving chill bumps in its wake and drawing a tiny squeak of pleasure from the dark-eyed girl. "I think you still need convincing."

"Yes, convince me, please!"

Mirage slid around so that she was beside Violet instead of under her, took her hand, and stood. "… Maybe we can have supper as dessert."

Violet's brilliant smile was all the encouragement she needed.

_** 9:30pm **_

Mirage was propped up in bed with a stack of pillows behind her, going over the prospectus for a new gallery she was considering using. Violet, fresh from the shower and with sparkling-clean teeth, plopped herself into one of the stuffed chairs in the large bay window nook, picked up a brush and a container of carrot oil, and began working on her hair. "Hey, Allie?"

The blond looked up from her papers. "Hm?"

"Did you happen to see on the news where Vermont has a referendum on this fall's ballot about marriage?"

That got her attention. "What?"

"In Vermont. There's a referendum gonna be voted on to change the constitution so that marriage is between 'any two consenting adults'. They're saying it's a reaction to that stupid anti-gay crap going on in Florida."

"Who's this 'They' that's saying that?"

"A few of the media talkingheads. There's a bunch of rabble-rousers from some weird sect in Oklahoma that's got a couple bus-loads of fanatics on the way to Vermont right now, to protest in defense of 'traditional marriage' if you can believe it."

"Nnnnno. … No, I'd have to say I haven't heard any of that. I don't really watch much TV, and we don't take the paper."

"Yeah, I know. I heard it all at work. The NSA is considering sending a small contingent of supers up to New England, just in case there's trouble. And from what I heard, anytime _this_ bunch of religious nutballs get involved, there will be trouble."

"They aren't thinking of sending _you_, are they?"

"No. I'm not cleared for field work, and might never be again. That depends on this thing," and she tapped her replacement foot. "No, I brought it up because I wondered … do you think maybe you'd like to … you know … and this is just assuming they get it passed … y'know, if they do, and it becomes available, and see, the law says that any marriage that's legal in the state where it's performed has to be recognized in all other states … so it would carry, I mean it'd be legal here in California … and I think it would be really nice if … that is, if you …"

"Honey, are you saying you want to get married?"

Violet bit her lower lip, her eyes hopeful. "Only if you do."

Mirage quickly scooted out of bed and stepped over to her lover, kneeling beside the chair. "Dear One, I think that's the sweetest thing you've said to me in a long time. And you say sweet things constantly."

"Then you're okay with the idea?"

"I'm more than okay. I don't know that a piece of paper will have any effect on my feelings for you, but …"

"Oh, Allie, that's not it at all! Do you remember how much trouble you had with that hospital in Nevada, right after my foot got disintegrated?"

"Oh, hell, yes. It was terrible until the NSA got there and took over. Those jerks wouldn't let me see you because I wasn't …" She paused, her eyes widening. "… because I wasn't … wasn't family." Her gaze bored into Violet's. "But this would fix that, wouldn't it?"

"I'm pretty sure it would. We'd have to carry around our marriage certificate, just in case, but, yeah, I've been looking into the legal aspects of our situation, and I think it would smooth over a _lot_ of things."

"Then we should do it."

"Really? You really want to?"

"Very much." She hugged Violet again, holding on tightly and fighting back tears. "To be able to say to everyone, 'I'd like you to meet my wife!' would be the second best thing in the world."

A frown took over Violet's face. "Second best? Behind what?"

"Behind _having_ you as my wife."

That turned the younger woman's scowl into a misty smile. "Oh."

"So when is this referendum thingy?"

"In November. It's part of …" Violet's voice trailed off and she got an odd look on her face. "What's that?"

Mirage felt it, too. It was as if a pressure was building in the room. She looked past Violet, scanning the night sky for signs of a storm, but there was only blackness outside the window. She stood and took a step that way, raising a hand and mumbling under her breath. After a moment she said, her voice trembling, "That's not an illusion."

Violet didn't answer. The older woman glanced back at her, then whirled to face her, back rigid: Violet was stiff in the chair, her face a mask of fear.

Mirage took an involuntary step back as a change came over Violet's features. "Vi? Honey? Is it him? Is he here?"

The younger woman could not answer, could only moan low in her throat as the invading presence completed its possession.

Her limbs went limp. Eyes unfocused, her head fell back against the chair, and as it had that first time, the Voice issued from her unmoving lips.

_**STAY AWAY FROM ME, VIOLET**_

Violet's long, dark hair lay across her face. Mirage was afraid to touch her, afraid to stay, afraid to leave. This stark duality she was seeing in the one person on the planet she loved more than she loved herself was much worse than the first time, almost supernatural in its macabre effect.

_**DON'T GET IN MY WAY**_

_**I WILL NOT HURT YOU**_

That statement gave the platinum-haired woman permission to breathe again.

_**BUT I CAN'T GUARANTEE THAT ABOUT THE NSA**_

Violet's eyes fluttered and she gagged, then coughed. "Please! Jack-Jack, please don't do this!"

_**THERE IS NO JACK-JACK**_

_**I AM **__**WRATH**_

_**JACK-JACK DIED WITH HIS FAMILY**_

Tears were streaming freely down Violet's cheeks now. "I just want to help you, Ja … um … little brother. Please let me help you."

_**YOU WANT TO HELP?**_

There was a long pause, long enough for Violet to sit up straighter and pull the hair from her eyes with shaking fingers. "I do!"

_**THEN STAY OUT OF MY WAY**_

_**TELL THEM ALL**_

_**TELL THEM TO STAY OUT OF MY WAY**_

_**I HAVE SEEN IN THE MEDIA THAT SOME CALL ME A DEMON**_

_**I AM NOT**_

_**I AM THE ANGEL OF DEATH**_

_**JUSTICE WILL BE SERVED**_

_**VENGEANCE WILL BE MINE**_

_**I CANNOT BE STOPPED**_

_**JUST STAY OUT OF MY WAY**_

Then he was gone. There was a sudden and massive absence of … something. Some noise or pressure or Presence had fled, and left behind a tingling itch in their bones.

Mirage stepped quickly to her lover's side and knelt. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. No lasting damage. Nothing physical anyway." She shook her head, rubbed at her face with the balls of both thumbs, and turned stricken eyes on the other woman. "He is so _scared!_ Hurt and angry and lost and sad … but mostly just scared. He's only fifteen, Allie! He's responding in the only way he knows, by lashing out at those who hurt him."

Mirage leaned her head against Violet's. "He was always such a happy little kid, too."

"I know. That makes it all the worse, by the contrast. He's not being bad. Really, he's not. But when Carter and his thugs were set free over a technicality, he just snapped. That's all I can figure." She bowed her head, pressing into Mirage's slender, pliable form, trying to pull from her some kind of comfort. The images of what Jack-Jack had done to the four men directly responsible for the deaths of his parents and brother were welded into her mind. She felt reasonably certain that if she ever developed Alzheimer's, those images would be among the _last_ things to be erased.

"He warned you off."

"Yeah. He did." She thought that over. "I wonder. Does that mean now that he'll try to stop us from locating and hiding the rest of the criminals in that mob? I hope not, because I sent that young fellow out after one today."

"That Water Weird guy?"

"Yeah. Funny how he took to that name. He hadn't really given himself one before." She pulled out her NSA communicator and punched in some numbers, and was shortly rewarded with a, "Hello?"

"David … um, I mean, Water Weird, do you have deMarco yet?"

"No, not yet. I've only been on the case for six hours. Gimme a break."

"Very well. I'm scrubbing the mission."

"_What!_ Why?"

"I got … some inside information. It's not going to be … necessary."

"But what about Wrath? Won't he come after the guy if we don't hide him? That's what you said!"

"I know. And I'm sorry. But there's a … a new development in the case. You need to get back to headquarters. We'll have a meeting first thing in the morning to go over what I've learned."

"And what's that?"

"… You'll find out at the meeting. That's all I can say right now."

David didn't miss the strain in her voice, and decided to take the better part of valor. "Okay, Miss Parr. I'll do it your way."

"Thank you." She put away the unit and turned bleak eyes to her lover and best friend. "Allie, what am I going to do?"

"Is there anything you _can_ do? Realistically? Isn't that sort of the conversation you had with that kid earlier?"

Violet just stared at the floor. "Yeah. I guess there isn't." Flopping back and closing her eyes, she blew a long breath and said, "There really isn't anything _anyone_ can do."

Mirage, truly frightened for the first time in a long time, asked of no one in particular, "What can mortals do when a god goes mad?"

Outside, several hundred meters straight up, a lone figure hovered in the air, listening to their conversation. He frowned and shook his head. _But I'm__not__insane. I'm doing what needs to be done, what no one else has the stones to admit. So buck up, Sis. You don't have to understand it. In fact, I don't believe you could. You never did have that primal instinct. Neither did Mom or Dad. If they had, they would have struck first, and they'd still be alive. But now we are all that's left of the family. Accept it, internalize it, and move on. The fewer innocents involved, the easier it will be to act the part of bleach in the gene pool._ He wrapped a cloak of darkness around himself and winked out.

Fin?


End file.
